Crash Landed
by light.wise
Summary: (First attempt in writing a story) A story of two modern people dealing with the fact that they're stuck in world thought to be fictional, without any internet, cars and toilet. They were separated, and how will they be able to find each other and survive without changing the story? And how will they ever go back to their world where they belong?
1. Chapter 1

**Story Title:**

Crash Landed

**Date: **

T.A. 3016 (Middle Earth Calendar; two years before the fellowship was formed) to F.A. 0001

**Soon-to-be-used-frequently Canon Characters:**

**(Not in Order) **

Faramir, Eowyn, Pippin(Razar), Merry(Kali), Sam(Ban), Frodo(Maura), Bilbo(Bilba), Arwen, Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf, Elrond, Lindir, Erestor, Theodred, Eomer

**Setting:**

First Part(before the fellowship): Henneth Annûn and Minas Tirith (Gondor); Edoras and Westfold (Rohan)

Second Part: Rivendell, Edoras, Minas Tirith, Lothlorien

**Genre:**

Adventure, Drama, Slight Romance (writing romance isn't actually my forte)

**Pairings: **

Canon Pairings, Perhaps an oc/oc and oc/person-from-M.E.

**Goal: **

To make a (semi)realistic man/woman transported to Middle-Earth

**OC****'****s Age:**

Lucas- 38(40,when fellowship was formed)

Lucille-30(32)

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>

I don't own The Lord of the Rings. Both movies and books. They belong to JRR Tolkien, Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema. I owned the OCs though.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1: Crash Landed in Middle-Earth<strong>

There were times in our lives where you found ourselves in very tight situations...

Like being caught with a hand stuck inside a cookie jar at age 4.

Being caught by your mom with with a broken expensive jar at age 7.

Being caught by your girlfriend with another girl at age 16.

Being caught by your boss kissing his wife at age 28.

Being accused as a pedophile by an enraged mother at 35.

…but the situation they stuck in took the _whole _cake.

* * *

><p>Lucas' day went on as usual.<p>

He woke up at 6 am, went to work at 8, left at 7 pm, fetch his sister at 10, then went to buy at the grocery store with his sister.

After that, all things went tumbling downhill.

He was driving his car, with his younger sister in the backseat, reading something she would have memorized by now,(occasionally glaring at the back head of her brother for the loud rock music he played in the player) when he lost control of the wheel. He hit the emergency brakes but the car refused to stop. He could hear his sister panicked screaming, and he had the urge to join her. Instead he focused on stomping the breaks and turning the wheel, which refused to do their job.

Without control of his car, it went its way to a nearest tree on the side of the road. He went to his sister and took her in his arms shielding her.

Pain hit his whole body, and he lose consciousness.

When he woke up, it was morning(the sweet air said so), his body was adorned with cuts and bruises, his shirt torn(lucky for him, his leather jacket and jeans didn't). And found himself lying in the middle of who-knows-where forest.

Alone.

Without his sister on sight.

He searched. He called. He cried. But still, there was no sign of her.

Though his body was still aching, wounds were still bleeding, he pushed himself to his limit to continue his search for his sister. Lucille may be a capable adult(probably more than him) but first and foremost, she was still his little sister. It was the duty of the eldest, his duty, to protect the younger siblings. He already failed once, he would not dare to do it again.

It was already mid-day, and his body was unbearably aching and his stomach was rumbling. Lucky for him, he found some edible and not poisonous berries while wandering around.

He also found a little stream, where he drank and wash away the dirt on his skins with his sister's handkerchief. He took off his tattered shirt, shredding it to cover his wounds. Deed done, he decided to have a short break in searching, so he sat down under the shade of a tree to complement his situation. The more he thought about it, the more impossible it get.

And he was trying himself not to panic.

While thinking deep on his thoughts, he didn't noticed that his eyes were slowly dropping in exhaustion.

A moment later, he was in deep slumber.

He woke up the moment he heard wolves howling loudly in a dangerously close distance. Ignoring his still-bruised and not-so-healed arms and ankle, he immediately climbed the nearest tall tree to seek some refuge from these probably hungry wolves.

After a few minutes of anxious waiting, he saw them. He was now currently perched on the highest sturdy branch on top of the tree, looking down at the new arrivals. There were 5 humanoid figures and 2 animals, their backs facing him. He adjusted his position to take a better view, and raised his eyebrows in confusion.

Who in their right mind would want to imitate the ugly mutilated monsters in famous movies and books? Surely those people were not that obsessed, not even his student(who was obsess with the villains of a certain movie) would wear things to resemble the villain. But he had to admit it, they certainly perfected it down to the bloody weapons and the minor details, including the sickening smell of their body odor.

He turn his gaze to the two animals and realized they were not just some oversized wolves overdosed with steroids. There were similarities, yes, but something about their features seemed so achingly familiar.

Dire wolves perhaps?

He snorted soundlessly. Impossible. They became extinct thousands of years ago.

But what are they? Some unknown hybrids?

Whatever they were, they certainly resemble the wargs in Peter Jackson's movie.

'_Fanatics. And I thought my __student__ was bad.__'_, he snorted again. This time, a not-so-silent snort.

The sound was too soft, no normal ears would have heard it.

But those below him were anything but normal.

The two wargs look-alike looked up and met his eyes. His heart skipped a beat so hard that he thought it might burst out of his ribcage. He silently prayed that they would not inform their other companions of their new discovery.

But still, his bad luck hadn't run out yet.

Their masters were talking(with pushing, punching, and weapons involved) in some unknown gibberish language when the not-wolves nudged their snout to them and pointed their noses upward to his direction. They stopped arguing amongst themselves and looked up towards his hiding place. He ducked and pushed his body deeper to the shadows but they immediately caught his eyes.

He froze. Not because of the fact that he was caught by these strangers or their realistic hideous faces, pointed ears and yellow sharp teeth.

But because of their demonic and bloodthirsty eyes.

They were abomination of nature, they should not exist.

Their existence is impossible. If ever they were real, the government would have subdue them and not letting them roam the land.

Plus, there were no such things as orcs.

Right?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when they laugh. A deep, mocking laugh that chilled his bones to the core. His breathing became difficult. They shouted at him, even though they still speaking in some language he clearly don't understand, their hand gestures made up to it. They were beckoning him to climb down the tree.

He still couldn't move as cold fear gripped him. One of them, whose weapons were bow and arrows, got somewhat lost its patience. He adjusted its weapons and took an aim at him. His eyes went wide and snapped out of his momentary paralysis and changed his position. He took a steady leap to the branch below him but slipped. Lucky for him, he quickly held on to the nearest branch like a hanging monkey would do. He heard a sharp '_twip!__'_and followed closely by loud '_thud!__'__._

On his previous location stuck a horribly hand-crafted arrow that was probably coated with poison.

The monsters growled angrily, not liking the fact that they missed the target. While his shooter took aim again, his hands was slipping but keep on the strong grip on the branch. If he fall, its his end. He could hear his heart was beating furiously in his chest. He looked for another escape route, but found none.

Before it loose the arrow, his nearest companion snatched the weapon from his hands and began speaking furiously in their gibberish language. Probably telling the other that its his turn. They partook in a shouting match when the last one(probably the leader) intercepted and broke the fight. He took the weapons to his hands. He draw the arrow back through his bowstring and aimed to shoot at him.

He had two choices: stay hanging on the branch just to be the shoot at or let himself fall to the ground and be captured/killed/tortured by these monsters.

Either way, it spells death in highlighted capital letters.

He doesn't want to die. Not like this.

He doesn't want to die. Not yet.

He still need to find his sister and ensure that she was alright.

But what can he do in his predicament?

His hands were aching and was loosing his grip to the branch. He looked down and saw the monster aimed its arrow at him.

Well, he believe its better to hit the ground already dead than to be alive only to be tortured, or worse, eaten while still alive and kicking.

He took a deep breath._'__ Im sorry, Lucille.__'_With tears in his eyes, he closed them shut.

He heard a sharp _'__twip!__'_

And followed closely by a loud _'__thud!__'_

But he felt no pain.

He heard the animals growled and the monsters shocked screaming. He opened his eyes and saw one of the monsters on the ground, clearly dead. Around them, men with old-style clothing emerge from the deep shadows of the trees, with swords and bows and arrows. The wargs look-alike leapt to the nearest men and viciously snapping their jaws. It got one of the men throat ripped out, blood spraying everywhere. He fought the urge to vomit at the scene.

Before it could go to the next target, the two animals were bombarded with arrows. Both of them hit the ground, dead.

The two orcs was still fighting, but was clearly overwhelmed by the newcomers. They were dead after a minute.

The fight was already over, but his stomach couldn't handle the sight and smell of the blood. He vomited and he lost his grip. He fell to the ground and darkness clouded his vision.

* * *

><p><strong>(Lucille's Point of View)<strong>

Lucille's day started out as normal as it could be.

She woke up at 6 am, went to work at 8, left at 8 pm, went to a bar with her colleagues, fetched by her brother at 10 and drove their way home after they bought some things from a 24-hour grocery store.

Then, things went out badly.

She was contentedly reading one of her favourite books when her brother lose the control of his car. She screamed as panic gripped her whole being. Her brother kept on stomping on the breaks and assured her that all will be alright.

Lucille knew he was lying.

She felt her brother wrapped his arm around her and she took hold of his shirt to keep him close.

The car crashed to the tree and she knew no more.

She woke up with her head and body aching, and covered with bloody strips of clothes on her arms, legs, and head which served as bandages for her wounds.

She was lying on a small soft cot on the ground inside a makeshift tent. She turned her head slightly sidewards and saw her recently-bought Calvin Klein purse, which contain her phone, house keys, face power and lipstick. Beside it were her two compact mirrors. She also saw her sneakers placed on her side and clothes folded beside it. She then realized that she was only in her underwear under the blankets.

She pushed herself to sit up. But her wounds made it difficult to do so. She attempted to sit up again, but stopped when she heard a distinctive sound of foot approaching the tent. She laid back and close her eyes to pretend she was still asleep.

A moment later, there was a flapping and shuffling sound of clothes. She felt the newcomer knelt beside her cot and began to change the bondages in her body. She immediately felt uncomfortable as she felt her/his finger brushed to her skin. She wasn't used to have her skin touched especially by a stranger.

She shifted a little bit, and the stranger paused.

But continued to work on her again.

She opened her eyes a little bit, and saw an outline of a person that greatly resemble a woman. She almost let out a huge sigh of relief.

'_Thank heavens! She__'__s not a man.__'_

The thought of a man, a stranger nonetheless, touching her while in this state made her shivered inwardly.

The woman was elderly, she noticed, judging from her wrinkled and calloused hands and strands of gray hairs that were sticking out of her bun. Lucille thought that she may be a professional nurse, as she worked on her like she was in her element. She changed the bandages as quick as she removed it and washed the wounds.

The woman was done in least than five minutes. Lucille had to close her eyes completely as the woman turned her head to examined the wound on her forehead. She felt her removed the cloth around her head and was replaced by a new one. When she was done, the woman gathered her things and silently walked out of the tent.

Now, Lucille completely opened her eyes. She looked down on her bandaged body and thought, _'__Don__'__t she have any proper bandages?__'_

She knew she sound like some ungrateful person, in fact she was very thankful about what she did, but one couldn't help but think. Were these washed and sterilized?

'_Perhaps they lacked sufficient money.__'_

She would definitely going to give her a huge sum of money after treating her wounds and all.

'_Where did I get this wounds again?__'_She closed her eyes and her eyebrows met as she made an effort to remember what happened. '_Okay, I clearly remember attending a birthday party, then I went home riding a late-night bus..No..a taxi?..No, it was a blue car... oh right! Kuya(1) fetched me that evening and went home together...__'_

Lucille frowned. There was something missing. But what? She vaguely remembered something her brother told her. Something about things he needed.

She had the urge to slap her forehead. _' Of course! __Kuya__ needed to restock his fridge so we had to stop to a 24-hour store. __We rode back home and..and..'_

"..the crash.." She gasp out softly, eyes wide. The memories about last night went back. Her panic, the screaming, the pain. All of it.

And her brother shielded her. He took the majority of the damage.

With haste, she ignored the stinging sensation of pain on her body and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. She then left the tent and looked around. Her face was calm, but her eyes said otherwise. Inside, she was an utter mess. Only because of years of practice preventing her to go hysteric. Having a younger brother in the army that had the habit of going MIA during missions helps.

Her eyes darted left and right, looking for a patch of a familiar messy black hair. She never noticed of how the people around looked at her weirdly, nor she noticed how weirdly they looked. She never noticed the sweet air around her nor the lush-green trees dancing with the wind. She never observed how old-fashioned they looked, nor smelled the aroma of the meat they roasted over the fire. All that mattered was finding her brother.

A hand touched her shoulder. She looked behind her and saw the elderly woman looking at her with concern. The same woman who cleaned her wounds. Lucille immediately inquired about her brother. "Where is my brother?"

The woman only looked at her oddly.

Lucille took a deep breath. She would not lose her temper. "I said, have you seen my brother?"

The woman opened her mouth, only to speak in a language Lucille had no knowledge of she could feel a huge headache coming. She said patiently, "In English, please."

The woman could only shook her head. Clearly she didn't understand English.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't snap.

She felt someone's arms wrapped around her shoulders and leading her gently back to her tent, murmuring something to her ears. Probably telling her to rest and get well.

'_Get well? GET WELL? My brother is probably in a life and death situation and she told me to rest?'_

Something inside her snapped

She shoved the woman away and started to yell at her. "I asked for my brother, dammit! He was this tall.." she held up her hand inches above her head. "..with black hair like mine.." she touched her hair. "He was wearing wearing a white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and jeans! He was with me! How could you not saw him?! You saved me, how can you not save him too?" A single tear made its way down her right cheek.

The woman was staring at her wide-eyed and a man, who was probably her son, helped her up. The man turned to Lucille and started ranting off in their language. Lucille only glared up to him. "What? Too illiterate to speak in English? Idiots, all of you! Look here fella, I don't care about you, her or anybody else. And whether you like it or not, Im going to look for him. So back off!"

With that, Lucille went past them, causing the man to stumble backwards, and made her way away from them.

Lucille was breathing heavily now, trying to control herself not. Worry, anger, and confusion were stirring inside of her. Worry for her brother. Angry to the woman. And confusion for the fact that she don't speak English. And her massive headache didn't help at all.

She heard voices from the background, but ignored it. Emotions where creating a storm inside of her. Tears of frustration, anger, and pain fell down freely from her eyes. She tried to control her feelings but found that she could not. After all, her mind couldn't handle the strain it had been receiving.

Lucille was breathing heavily, she could her heart beating loudly and irregularly in her ears. Her eyes became unfocused and her footing swayed. The world around her swirled.

She hit the ground, losing her consciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>Random Trivia:<strong>

Did you know that the Philippines have the longest number of days when it comes on celebrating the Christmas season? Filipinos would start decorating at the first -ber month, September. On the first day of that month, you could already hear Christmas songs playing in radios, telly, and dvd players.

* * *

><p>(1) = 'kuya' is a Filipino word for 'big brother'<p>

**A/N: **This is my very first chapter of my very first fanfiction EVER.! This is quite an achievement for me really. I mean I never written a story before. Heck, I even suck at writing essays! But since I got contaminated by a nasty case of a thing which we call imagination through the bite of the plot bunnies, I have no choice but to consult my laptop for cure, who in turn recommended me to use fanfiction for medicine.

How was it? Good, Bad, or Moderate?

PLEASE REVIEW, FAVORITE, and FOLLOW! Any advice and constructive criticism is welcome but please no flames. Please understand that Im still a beginner.

And please give it another chance if you don't like it.

**P.S. **: There won't be a human/elf pairing in this story EVER. I always believe that there would no human/elf pairing in the stories without going into the Mary/Gary Sue territory. Remember, Luthien (the elven maiden who fell in love with a man named Beren) was a Canon Sue, saving Beren and doing impossible tasks along the way. Tolkien based her on his wife, while Beren was based on the writer himself. They even inscribed Luthien-Beren names on the plaques of their graves!

**P.P.S. **: Before you ask, Im from Philippines. Im a Filipina who lived in a small province(im proud about it)so please pardon my grammar, im not fluent in English. I lived here my whole life. I haven't been outside the country. I am not a legal adult yet.

**P.P.P.S. **: Don't expect me to update regularly. Im a slow worker when it come to writing(unless I have inspiration) and between work, house chores, lack of internet access, and laziness, I could probably update two chapters a month.

**P.P.P.P.S. **: My story is kinda fast forwarded. It sucks, I know but Im still learning. I also sucks in describing situations, so please bear up with me. I would probably rewrite this if I have time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own The Lord of the Rings. Both movies and books. They belong to JRR Tolkien, Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema. I owned the OCs though.

I also don't own Listerine, and Nike.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

There are English words here that were scrambled. It means that the owner of the POV does not understand what the other was talking about.

'_LOTR_**'**_- _Thoughts

"LOTR" - speech

* * *

><p><strong>(Lucas' Point of View)<strong>

The sound of footsteps reached his ears, causing Lucas to snap awake. Disoriented, he wasn't aware of the direction where the intruding noise came from. He felt cold and weak. His throat was dry. His sight was still blurry, but he could see the faint outline of a water jar beside him. He reached out for it but someone grabbed it before he could. He could hear the person pour the water, and placed the mouth of the cup on his lips, tilting it a bit to let the water flow. Lucas drank the water greedily, causing him choke.

The stranger immediately removed the cup and started to rub Lucas' back comfortingly until he stopped coughing. Lucas' vision somewhat became clearer. He saw the soft glow of light from the lamps inside the room, lightening the stone walls. He realized that it must be evening, meaning he slept the whole afternoon.

He turned his gaze to his right, and he saw a person on his bed side. He was tall, with black shaggy hair that touched his shoulder. He had a scruffy beard on his chin that made his already wrinkled and rough skin face looked more old. He was also muscular and strong-looking that Lucas' thought that he might had been a wrestler in his youth days. And he smelled like he hadn't heard what a bath was.

It was his clothes that caught Lucas' attention. He was wearing an old- fashion blackish brown long-sleeved garment hat extends to his thighs, gathered by a belt on his waist. He was also wearing a pair of pants that looked like riding trousers that went to mid-calf where his muddy boots met them. And strapped on his waist was a long and heavy-looking thing that could be identified as a sword.

All in all, he looked like a medieval-fanatic escapee from an asylum.

And with his middle-ages-styled room, with stone walls, straw mattress and wooden cup, he came to a conclusion that he was brought to a medieval-themed reality show.

The thought of it made him growled.

They staged a car crashed, dumped him in a middle of nowhere with fresh and uncleaned injuries, sent those mutilated experiments that almost gotten himself killed, and caged him with an old fashioned lunatic.

He would've forgiven them, if it weren't for the fact that they dragged his sister in this mess.

They probably held her hostage so he would play their game.

And if Lucille was part of the conspirators, he was going to have a very long talk with her. The thought wasn't impossible, his siblings always liked to annoy Lucas for their own amusement. Lucille always say that the main role of the younger siblings was to annoy the older ones. But of course, they would not go this far.

If he wasn't really in a reality show, he was probably in a remote place where modern technology hadn't touched yet. Which was kind of impossible really, not with our satellites and very advance technology and all.

He almost forgotten the man with him, until the man tapped his shoulder lightly. A look of concern crossed the stranger's face.

Lucas' face became sheepish, only slightly. "Sorry. I kind of spaced out a moment. So, uh.., could you possibly tell me where I am?

The man tilted his head slightly sidewards and never said anything. However Lucas could read the message showed by his face: 'What?'

Lucas felt his stomach dropped to the ground. Great, he was stuck with a medieval-fanatic that doesn't speak English.

He spoke to him in Spanish, Japanese, Tagalog, Visayan, Ilonggo and some few words he knew in Mandarin, Latin, and German. But this only made the stranger more confused.

He tried another tactic. Grimacing slightly, he put his bandaged hand across his chest and said slowly, "Lucas."

The man lightened up with understanding. He mimicked Lucas by putting his right hand across his chest and said, "Halar."

Lucas silently sighed in huge relief. At least he was stuck with a smart one. He nodded his head and repeated, "Halar." _It sounds like Arabic or something from __the __Middle East. _He thought..

He put his hand across his chest again and said, "Lucas." and pointed his finger to the stranger. "Halar". Lucas received an approval via crooked grin from the man which showed his yellowish teeth. _He __seriously__ need to brush his teeth thoroughly. And use some Listerine too. Lots __and lots__ of Listerine._

_Okay, time for questions, _he thought. He pointed at himself then pointed at the stranger. Then he opened both of his hands wide(he grimaced slightly at the pain) to indicate the surrounding, making sure to put up a mask of bewilderment.

To Lucas' great relief, Halar caught the question. He hesitated at first before giving in. He mimicked Lucas again and answered, "Henneth Annûn"

"Hen-what?"

Halar answered again, "Henneth Annûn." When Lucas didn't respond, he added, "Ithilien"

Lucas blinked. That word was strangely familiar, he was sure he heard that word before. But before he could say something though, someone opened the door and walked towards them.

The newcomer was young, well younger compared to Halar. He was dressed in a similar clothing as Halar, only cleaner and newer. He looked like he was at his early thirties, probably the same age as Lucille, give or take, he wasn't sure. He has dark brown hair that went to his shoulder and grey eyes that seemed to to show that he was a wise man.

There was one thing he was clearly sure of, that he was someone of high importance and ranking. He knew not because Halar bowed waist-deep at him nor how high he lift his chin up, but because of the way he carried himself with importance, confidence and authority, like the general of Lucius' troop that his younger brother brought home last year.

The man said something in their language to Halar, who immediately replied to his superior. Lucas' ears perked up when he heard Halar spoke his name to the new arrival. _He probably told him my name._

They conversed for a while before Halar bowed to the man again and made his way to the door. However, before he was out of his line of vision, he took a glance to Lucas before he closed the door behind him.

Lucas turned look at the remaining person, who was staring at him in a curiosity/suspicion blend kind of way. Lucas return the stare, he wasn't going to backed down like a frightened eleven year old boy. He was a teacher, he handled raging parents all the time and stared down at them, two of them was a mayor and a policewoman. And he won the battle. He wasn't going to lose this one just because he was just a stranger here.

After a while, Lucas finally blinked and diverted his stare somewhere else. '_Damn, that kid could hold it.'_

He heard the man cleared his throat, and Lucas looked at him again. Finally, he was going to introduce himself. He pointed a finger to Lucas and said, "Lucas" and he moved his right hand across his chest and said, "Faramir."

_So that's his name huh..Faramir._ Again it was sound achingly familiar to him. He was sure he knew that name. Lucas tried his name on his tongue and said, "Faramir." He saw him nod his head in approval.

Faramir was talking in their language, causing Lucas to shake his head in negative. But after talking for a while, Faramir looked like he was on his patience's end and blurted two words that he completely understands. "...mellon"

He knew it wasn't fruit; and Lucas' eyes widened in recognition and asked, "Wait. You know Sindarin?" _Having a student obsess with Tolkien's work does have its merits after all._

He saw Faramir sighed softly in relief and started ranting in Sindarin. Lucas wasn't actually fluent in Sindarin, he only knew some few, very few, useful words. He interrupted Faramir in the middle of his speech. "Whoa easy there. I could barely understand you."

Faramir stopped, his cheeks was slightly tinted with red.

Lucas took a deep breath. "Okay, let start this thing over." He pointed at himself and said, "Lucas". He pointed at Faramir and opened his arms. "manke?(where?)"

Faramir nodded in understanding. "Ithilien" he answered.

Lucas nodded, he already knew that. He needed to know what country Ithilien was part of. He didn't know the sindarin word for country, so he tried something else. "aranarth?(kingdom?)"

Faramir looked at him weirdly before answering, "Gondor."

Something clicked inside in mind. _Wait..Gondor? The GONDOR? _Eyes narrowing, Lucas searched Faramir's face for any signs of deceit but found none.

The wargs and orcs. The medieval clothes and weapons. The strange language and Sindarin. It all made sense to him now. His first theory was right. An insane producer obsessed with Tolkien's Legendarium kidnapped him to play this freaking reality show that almost killed him! And he brainwashed the people into thinking that they were in Middle-Earth and the characters and happenings were real.

But the monsters, blood, and killing back in the forest were far too real to be fake.

_Im missing something important here. _Lucas groaned. Unknowingly, he muttered under his breath, "This is why I hate mysteries. Im a teacher, Im supposed to know things!"

* * *

><p><strong>(Faramir's Point of View)<strong>

The man in front of him, Lucas, was interesting, to say at least.

A non-ranger foreign man who could speak Sindarin, even if it was just some few words.

Faramir was known to be a good at reading expressions and weeding out liars. He read Lucas and was sure about two things.

First. He was no warrior, he could tell from his scarless and less calloused hands and the lack of reaction and instinct that only a warrior would have when they found themselves in an unknown place.

And Second. He was utterly lost and downright confused in his situation.

He was obviously far from these lands, judging from his lack of knowledge about Westron and his clothes. Halar and his men found him fell from a tree, with tightly bound strips of clothes on his wounds, and his vomit on his chest. His choice of wardrobe was very peculiar, he never saw anything like his before so he thought they might had been tailored especially for him. He was wearing a dark leather jacket with pockets and folded collar, and his thick trousers reached his ankles and were stitched with designs that were so...attention-grabbing, unique. But his footwear, he didn't know what those were called but it was very, very different. It was painted with blue and with something he could call an insignia: a 'V' with the left line shorter than the right line, which was painted with white(1).

Faramir first thought that the man was a spy for the Dark Lord, but quickly abandon that theory when he saw a genuine bewilderment on his face. If he was wrong, then the man must be a good actor. If he was a spy, then it was quite a feat to be able to fool him.

He heard Lucas groan and mutterings. Faramir cocked an eyebrow. Not many people would ignore him for other things(said people would be his father and some self-important councilors) especially not when he was right beside them.

Faramir cleared his throat again. He need to know where the man came from.

When he got Lucas attention again, he decided to make it as simple as possible. He pointed at him, "lle(you), Lucas." Then he spread his both hands wide, making sure to give him a questioning glance, "manke tuuló?(where from?)

He watched Lucas processed what he asked. For a moment, Faramir thought he didn't understand it, but was proved wrong when Lucas nodded his head in recognition. He answered, "New York"

'_New York? I can not say I have heard of that place before.' _Faramir mused. He pressed Lucas for answers again. "New York, For? Har? Rhûn? Numen?(North? South? East? West?)"

He watched Lucas thought about the question and saw raised his eyebrows in..._Disbelief?_

* * *

><p><strong>(Lucas' Point of View)<strong>

Lucas was thinking about what Faramir asked._ '__For? Har? Rhûn? Numen? __What the fuck are they? Okay, think..so uh it's four words and we're talking about place..hm'_

He scratched his chin lightly. '_Four..., place..,__maybe __directions? That's it! Har is probably south, like where Harad is, and Numen is west, like the direction of Numenor, __probably,..__ For is __probably__ north while Rhûn is east.'_

' _So the sentence was 'New york, North? East? South? West?'. So he's asking me the direction of New York. _Lucas stared at him and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. '_Is this guy for real? New York is a popular city! Even five year old kids knows that it is located in the western country! _

He saw Faramir cocked his right eyebrow as he laughed. Loudly.

"Hey Kid. Whoever brainwashed you must have done a very wonderful job! You can't even recognize New York! It's a crime-infested FAMOUScity with THE Liberty Statue. You know, the woman garbed in robes and holding a torch?" He said this with hand gestures when describing the Statue of Liberty.

He looked at Faramir's face and saw nothing but confusion.

Lucas growled when his patience finally came into a dead end. "That's it, I had enough!" He looked around him, shouting at the thin air expecting cameras placed in the room. "Whoever is out there, stop this now! This is certainly not amusing. Or I'll swear I'll file a suit to the court for all of you and throw y'all to jail!"

He turned to Faramir and pointed his finger at him. "And you! Faramir-wannabe! I don't care about your boss nor your job, just find me some DECENT clothes and get me out of here now!"

Faramir didn't budged an inch from his position, merely staring at Lucas, wondering what he was saying.

Lucas keep on shouting and handing out threats in the air that made Faramir removed himself from the room, giving him time to cool off.

Lucas hardly noticed though.

* * *

><p><strong>(Kastonîn Point of View)<strong>

Kastonîn doesn't know what to do with the strange woman they currently been treating.

He was the one who found her, bloody and bruised in the middle of a glade near their campsite. He was the one who brought her to his mother(who cleaned and treated her wounds), carrying her gently, being extremely careful not to worsen the injury inflicted on the woman. He was the one who came back to the clearing to gather the scattered things she probably own. And he was the one who carried her back to her tent after she fainted.

If the day she woke up was bad, the next day was worse. She was calm at first, merely sitting in front of her tent(his mother objected to this, but relented anyway), her eyes scanning and observing everyone and everything around her in curiosity and doubt. Then, she started muttering to herself, shaking her head and pinching herself(which his mother scolded her for worsening her injuries). Her actions were actually not bad at all, odd but not bad.

It was after mid-day that her behavior became erratic. A kid went to the place where she was found(without consent from adults, of course), and came back with a strange rectangular shiny metal thing with white strip of cloth smudged with blood. The moment she saw it, she froze, before taking it into her hands delicately, staring down at it.

Then she started crying. Silent crying, which was much more sad to look at. Her whole body was shaking and her tears were flowing freely from her eyes. His mother(may The Valar bless her), moved to her side and offered a shoulder to cry onto, which the woman accepted. Moments later, she started to talked angrily in her language. She attempted to go to the site where he found her on several occasions, but she was stopped repeatedly. She started to struggled(she was quite strong, he noticed) and kicking while screaming and it took two men to hold her down. She was crying in her tent the rest of the day, throwing things to those anyone who dared to enter.

The next day was quite uneventful. No crying, no shouting, and no throwing things. No talking and eating either. She was clearly distraught. Her mother had to coaxed her every time to eat her food.

He took note of her appearance. She had a shiny, black hair that reached halfway of her back.. Her nails were long, shiny, and painted with white on the tips(2). He estimated that she was probably no more than twenty-five years old, judging from her petite figure(3). If her ears were pointed he would have mistaken her being a she-elf for her fair and smooth complexion(4). When she opened her mouth, he saw her pearly white teeth(5). In fact, it was the whitest teeth he ever saw in his life, since he never saw an elf before.

And he found out that her hands were really soft. She had hands of a person that never experience hard work and labor.

He assumed that she was probably a woman of high ranking, as how she was wearing extremely expensive jewelries(6). A silver ring decorated with olive-green(7) stones on her ring finger of her right hand ; a gold and silver intertwining bracelet on her left wrist and a strange silver bangle with round plate with numbers on her right wrist ; a necklace with a pendant of two small diamonds on each sides of a tear-shaped olive-green stone. And on her ears were a pair of flower-shaped earrings with small diamonds for stones. She even had a stretchable brown hair tie with colored not-stones stitched to it.

Her clothes, though she never wore them ever since his mother started treated her, were very, very unusual. He saw them closely when someone volunteered to wash it on a nearby spring. She had a pastel pink sleeveless V-necked shirt with words in a language he didn't know etched on it; a black waist-length coat with high collar and pockets on each sides; and skin-tight shiny black pants that could probably reach her ankles. It had pockets on front and back and seemed to repel water.

She had two footwear. One was a pair of brown thick-heeled sandal(8), which was the thing she wore when he found her, and a pair of dark blue flexible, light flat shoes with cloth upper that was contained in a light box in a strange transparent raucous bag(9) of an unknown material.

But the most noticeable thing about her was the strange markings above her right eyebrow, which her mother presumed was her birthmark.

The day she was first treated, she looked so weak..,so fragile.

Now, he almost wished she would have stayed that way.

It had been three days since she fainted. He was currently sitting across her inside her small tent with a fresh-from-the-pot broth in the middle. It was his turn to bring her food to her and to make sure she eat. Although, he wished he was somewhere else.

Both of them were staring, no, more like glaring at each other. Without breaking eye contact, Kastonîn pushed the bowl towards her and said one word, "Eat." He had been telling her to eat her food for the past fifteen minutes and she still hadn't gave in. He didn't understood her, she never been this adamant about rejecting her food.

She merely huffed in response and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She never said anything as she was using a universal language.

Kastonîn sighed irritably. He pointed at the broth and said, "Eat the food. It will help you recover your strength and heal your wounds fast." He pointed at her wounds.

She shifted a little. With her glare on the man still, she pointed at the meat floating on the food. "Waht mekas uyo tnihk I wluod eta ttha?(10) " She said with incredulity in her voice.

He didn't understand what she was saying, but he could grasp a little idea behind it. "It is the meat of a healthy dog." He imitated a bay of a dog to make her understand.

She went paler than usual and snapped at him. "I konw ttha! Uyo tlod em ttha a herdnud temis. Adn terehs on fnikcug wya I wluod eta ttha carp!(11)" With a huff, she broke the eye contact and shifted her head to avert her gaze sidewards, indicating that was final.

Kastonîn didn't pushed her further. He stood up from his position and exited the tent, leaving the food behind, just in case she ate it.

He made his way to to the center of the camp where their food was being made.

Their caravan still hadn't moved ever since the day he found the woman. They decided to delay the travel until the woman was healed enough to travel, which was probably tomorrow. The caravan were consisted mostly of merchants traveling together for safety since none of them were actually fighters. It made up of five women(including his mother), eight men(including him), and four children. All of them aged from four for the youngest to sixty-five for the oldest.

Kastonîn arrived near the campfire and was enthusiastically greeted by those who were already there. He waved a hand at them and greeted them in return. A woman passed him a bowl of soup for him to eat and sat down beside a gray-haired old man, the oldest one on this caravan, on a log near the fire.

He scooped his soup with his wooden spoon and blew on it to cool it enough not to burn his tongue.

"How does our wayward guest fares, Kastonîn?"

Kastonîn turned to the old man beside him. "She shunned the food I had given to her." he answered. "She knew it was dog meat but she appears to have a great dislike to it." He put his food aside and continued, "I do not understand her, Telran. At first she had a mild nature, quiet and polite even. Allow her some time and she will have a temperament to vie an orc."

Telran stared at him for a second before answering. "You must be patient with her like your mother do. Like we all do." He took a sip on his soup. "She is lost and confused. She can not speak our language. And she unmistakably lost someone important to her. I do not think anyone may possibly handle it well if someone else is in her stead." He paused and said something in afterthought, "And furthermore, she is a woman."

Kastonîn raised an eyebrow. "What does being a woman have anything to do with this?"

The old man chuckled and pat the man beside him on his shoulder with his wrinkled hand. "Ah Kastonîn. You are young still. You have yet a lot to learn about female kind. I am a married man for years, my boy. I knew my wife ever since we were little and yet I still can not predict the ways of the women."

"...I find it hard to believe. You are one of the wisest man I know." It was true. As a son of a wealthy merchant, Telran spent most of his youth years traveling around Middle Earth. He gathered knowledge and stories around the world and shared them around a campfire. It was even rumored that he met the elves and the eminent Lord Elrond and stayed a week at his Homely House. And took in information and stories from their vast library.

"I may be wise as you claimed, but I am not perfect. Every person has their own flaws. And I am certainly not an exception." Telran shook his head and continued, "Even the higher beings have their own faults: Think of Melkor and how he had became Morgoth ; Think of Aule and his impatience ; think of how The Valars' first intervention turned out. Think of how the Dark Lord Sauron used to be a great Maiar." He sighed. "All creations of Eru has imperfections, only He is flawless."

If there was one thing in Telran, that Kastonîn didn't like, it was his ability to shift into another topic naturally.

They heard a padding of footsteps behind them and both of them turned around and saw Kastonîn's mother making their way towards them She stopped in front of them.

"Mother! Have you eaten yet? Come and join us!" Kastonîn said.

His mother nodded at him in acknowledgment and answered, "Yes, I already had lunch. But I will join you here nonetheless." Kastonîn scooted over towards Telran and his mother sat beside her son.

"Ah Iondre," Telran greeted her. "Good noon to you."

Iondre glanced at him and nodded with smile. "Good noon to you as well, Telran." She raised her eyebrows. "I see that you trimmed your beard."

"Ah yes." The old man answered. "It was long enough to spoil my food." He run his finger on his shortened white beard. "And you know I always like to wear it short."

She smiled at him. "True."She turned to his son. "Has she eaten her food, Kastonîn?" Iondre didn't bother to tell who the 'she' was for both of them knew who was she. She had been the main topics in most conversations in the camp.

Kastonîn shook his head. "Nay. She seems to have a great dislike to dog meat, Mother. I can not make nor force her to eat the food."

"And you did not replaced it with something else?" Iondre inquired. "She must eat for her fast recovery!"

Kastonîn shifted slightly on his seat as Telran chuckled beside him. "I merely gave her time to regain her calmness, Mother. It would be difficult for us to make her eat if she is acting in a volatile manner."

"That may be so, Kastonîn, however you should have delivered her another meal!" She stood up and put her right hand on her hip. She looked straight at her son.

"Im afraid that we only have dog soup for lunch, Mother. Unless you expect me to hunt some rabbits?"

Telran decided to interrupt, "I believe," Both mother and son glanced at him simultaneously. "that Aelyn has a violent reaction to the dog soup. They might have some rabbit stew that her mother made."

"Ah yes!" Iondre exclaimed. "I saw her father brought in some rabbits. Large, if I may add." She turned her gazed to her son. "I will request for some food. I expect you are still be here when I come back and you will deliver it to the woman."

Kastonîn groaned. "Mother, that woman doesn't like me" And he added under his breath, "and the feeling is mutual."

Lucky for him, his mother didn't caught it. "Then deliver her food again and make peace with her." Kastonîn felt Telran's eyes on him. Right, he hadn't told him yet. "Also, I clearly remember that it was your fault that made her to dislike you."

"Why can we not make Gil-"

"I want you to give it Kastonîn and wheedle her to eat. I will say no more." With that, she turned around and started to walked away.

When she was out of earshot, Telran asked, "What did you do Kastonîn?"

He went beet red and replied. "I might have., well., She saw and felt me holding her hand and fiddling her ring on her finger."

Telran let out a deep chuckle that made Kastonîn blushed even more. "And pray tell, why did you-"

"I was merely beholding the ring, Telran. Nothing terrible."

"For a woman who woke up to a foreign land to see a stranger holding her hand, it is terrible." He closed his eyes, as if remembering something. "For them, that stranger was intending to do something...vile and unpleasant."

Kastonîn's eyes went wide. "I would never do such thing!"

The old man opened his eyes and shifted them to look at the man beside him. "I did not say that you have an intention to hurt her. I was only stating it from a woman's perspective"

"Indeed?"

"Yes. Kastonîn, I am curious, did she gave her name?"

Kastonîn shook his head. "Nay for I did not asked. I also do not know if she told Mother of her name."

"Well, start asking her name then."

"I do not think it will be that simple without being glared at, Telran" Kastonîn glanced behind him and saw his mother heading towards them with a steaming bowl in hand.

He snapped his gaze to the old man when he put his wizened hand on his shoulder. "My boy, every perilous journey started with a single step and every knowledge were obtained with a simple question. Do it and gain what you want."

Kastonîn sighed. "I will try."

Iondre finally arrived and handed the hot bowl with wooden spoon to her son, who accepted it. "Here," she said. "Take it to our guest and make sure that she eats them."

Perforce, Kastonîn nodded. "I will, Mother."

He was certainly hoping that she will not throw her thick-heeled footwear to his face again.

* * *

><p><strong>Random Trivia****Facts/Knowledg****e/****Etc.**

*We all know that JRR Tolkien died in 1973, right? The amazing thing is:

_** Three** rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky_

_** Seven **for the Dwarf-Lords in their hall of stones_

_** Nine **for the Mortal Men doomed to die_

_ **One **ring for the Dark Lord on his throne(...)_

Got it? 3791. Reverse it, 1973. Gotta wonder if Tolkien predicted his death-year.

*Did you know that there is a bar in Ireland that has been running ever since 900AD?

(1) = Nike logo

(2) = French-tip

(3) = think of Ellen Page: the Kitty Pryde of the X-Men movies, only few inches taller

(4) = result of beauty products.

(5) = what do you expect? Modern people, esp those people who brushes their teeth regularly and uses mouthwash, would have 'pearly' white teeth compared to the people of the old times.

(6) = owner of the POV thinks it was really expensive when in reality those were just gold and silver plated with low carat jewels. Except the ring. That was real.

(7) = birthstone of the month August: Peridot.

(8) = wedge sandals

(9) = plastic bag

(10) = What makes you think I would eat that?

(11) = I know that! You told me that a hundred times. And there's no fucking way Im going to eat that crap!

**P.S. **: If you're wondering, Lucas is a teacher of high school students. Lucille is a secretary to a businessman, which explains her shiny hair, painted nails and fair complexion. The wonders of modern cosmetics, people! Plus, every secretary must be on their best look. Don't worry, it wont last though. Old times were pretty harsh when it comes to women's beauty.

**P.P.S. **: I am certainly not a conversationalist type of a person so I sincerely apologize if you find the conversations above sucks. Also, I used some simple archaic words on conversations.


End file.
